A Death at Crystal Palace

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘Actually, we think he was murdered,’ I said.

  ‘By Porter,’ said Bertram helpfully.

  It took us almost an hour to calm down her hysterics, but by the end we were both convinced that she had intended to run off with Von Ritter and that it would fit with Porter’s character for him to act vengefully. In the privacy of her bedroom she showed me the remains of bruises that Porter had inflicted on her when he had recently accused her of flirting. All of them were carefully positioned not to be on show during normal daywear and all of them looked to have been very painful. When we explained what we needed her to do she was almost eager.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Midnight Manoeuvres

  Catching a cab in the metropolis in the middle of the night is not as easy as you might think. Getting past the doorman at the hotel where a diplomatic delegation is staying is almost impossible. Fortunately, the officer we had spoken to at Crystal Palace had drawn the short straw and was on night duty. Under our direction he gathered the remainder of the delegation in the deserted downstairs lobby. I took the precaution of getting the increasingly curious doorman to lock the exits.

  Dietrich Habermann came down first. I could have believed he had stepped out of his office only minutes before. He wore his well-pressed suit and not a trace of sleep showed about his face although, by now, we were nearing midnight. He bowed to us both. ‘I assume this is a matter of some import?’ he said politely.

  Bertram assented and asked him to sit. He did so, crossing his legs with careful precision. Friedrich Gottlieb came down next in a flannel green dressing gown that showed glimpses of striped pyjamas beneath. He was not happy. Only the presence of the police encouraged him to stay.

  Robert Draper came down in the suit he had worn earlier that day. His shirt was undone, and he smelled of alcohol. He fell into rather than sat on one of the grouped chairs.

  Rudolf Beiersdorf arrived next. His white hair stood on end. He had thrown a coat over his sleeping attire and appeared confused. ‘Is there a fire?’ he asked. When assured not, he sat down but continued to look bewildered.

  Algernon Porter came down last. I should have expected this. He had taken the time to dress and even shave. He looked every inch the statesman. Or he did until he saw Miss Anderson. At this point he asked in a stern tone, ‘What is this meaning of this?’

  Miss Anderson took this as a cue and flew at him screaming about him destroying all her chances. As neither Bertram or I had had any indication she would do anything of the sort we were quite caught off-guard. Happily, there were enough police to intervene. With the contract as evidence against him, Porter could not deny knowing Miss Anderson. And her crude scathing criticism of him and his peccadilloes stirred him in ways a police interrogation could not have done. Within half an hour he was a broken man and had confessed everything. When we left, Miss Anderson was being comforted by Friedrich Gottlieb, whom we overheard saying how he had misjudged her and that she had obviously cared deeply for Klaus. I took a step towards him, but Bertram put a restraining hand on my arm. He went over to them and carefully put the contract beside her on the arm rest. She affected not to notice, but by the time he returned to me it had made its way into her pocket.

  Outside the hotel, I asked Bertram, ‘Should we go back inside and ring up the hotel, or shall we take a cab?’

  ‘Cab,’ said Bertram firmly. ‘They will either be waiting for Fitzroy to call them or be embarked on a rescue. Either way, if we ring them up we will merely delay them.’

  ‘I am not sure I have enough money,’ I said, rummaging in my purse.

  ‘We will tell the doorman to put it on our bill,’ said Bertram stoutly. He hailed a cab and then promised the man double, no, triple the fare if he could get us there quickly. We fairly flew through the night. My heart was in my mouth. We had solved Fitzroy’s mystery, but had he come through for us in return? Bertram gripped my hand. ‘Whatever happens,’ he said. ‘I am ready.’ I was not sure if he was telling me or himself.

  ‘Bertram,’ I asked trying to distract us both, ‘why did you stop carrying change?’

  Bertram looked a little surprised. ‘You said you did not like me fiddling with the coins in my pockets. You were quite forceful about it.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have coins and not fiddle?’

  ‘No, dear,’ said Bertram. ‘No man can resist fiddling with his pocket change.’

  At the Carlton we left a distressed doorman and angry cabbie behind us and ran for the elevator. ‘It might get rather rough, you know,’ said Bertram. ‘I am not sure you should come on any rescue.’

  I bridled but decided to argue the point when I knew what was coming next. Bertram threw open the broken door to the suite and we heard the sound of babies crying. I sprinted forward and found Richenda, tired and dirty, sitting on the settle clinging to her children. ‘I will never leave you again,’ she was saying to the squalling children.

  ‘Are they hurt?’ I cried running forward. Merry intercepted me.

  ‘Only tired and hungry. It’s been a long night.’

  ‘So, did you find my murderer?’ I whirled to find Fitzroy leaning against a wall, smoking a cigar.

  ‘Algernon Porter,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Damn it,’ said Fitzroy. ‘That will cause a stink.’ To his credit he did not ask us if we were sure.

  ‘But how did you…?’ I asked.

  ‘Merry has an excellent memory,’ said Fitzroy. ‘After she had gone through all the details no more than twenty times I managed to locate the most likely of two probable sites. I could not go myself, so I sent men in. As you can see they were successful.’

  ‘The kidnappers?’ said Bertram.

  ‘Were not the priority. My men had orders to rescue the children. I imagine the kidnappers saw the overwhelming force and decided that retreat was the better part of valour.’ said Fitzroy. ‘Funny thing is, I have just had a wire saying that two German nationals, who had been marked as persons of interest by officials, have been found dead on the Old Kent Road. Shot, would you believe?’

  ‘Did you…?’ I asked him.

  Fitzroy pretended to take offence. Then he smiled. ‘No. I don’t leave a mess behind me and neither do my people. I rather think it was a message for you, Richenda.’

  At this point, Richenda looked up and stopped talking to the children. Merry took the opportunity to sweep in and take them off to bed. ‘For me?’ said Richenda.

  ‘Doubtless your charming brother ordered their execution for messing up. In fact, I am not entirely sure that they were not trying to double-cross him and take the money for themselves. Either way, they would have killed you all if my people had not arrived in the nick of time.’

  Richenda paled. ‘It is not that I am not grateful,’ she said turning to me, ‘but who is this extraordinary individual?’

  Fitzroy gave a crack of laughter. ‘I am a good friend of Bertram and Euphemia, ma’am, and your good servant.’ He swept an extravagant bow. Then he turned to us. ‘Bertie, Effie, good job. I cannot say we have stopped the war, but with luck and honesty you may have held it back another few months. Your country thanks you.’ He gave another crack of laughter and walked out.

  ‘The strange people you two know,’ said Richenda in a disapproving voice.

  ‘Ma’am?’ called a faint voice. Richenda’s lady’s maid stood in the doorway. She looked as if she had fought a dozen hedges and lost.

  ‘Good heavens, Glanville. We had quite forgot all about you with all this business. Where have you been?’

  ‘I got caught up in a suffragette march, ma’am. I was arrested and thrown into jail…’

  Bertram and I did not hear the rest of her story for we were laughing too hard. Attracted by the noise, Rory came out of his room, took one look at the chaos around him then, pulling his best butler face, retreated back into his room and closed the door.

  The End

  Proudly published by Accent Press

  www.accentpress.co.uk

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